


like a reed in a canebrake

by Ahria



Category: Slayers (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Blood, Blood Magic, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Original Character Death(s), Romance, Romantic Friendship, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-04-28 19:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14455926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahria/pseuds/Ahria
Summary: While trying to spend a peaceful week researching magic theory, Lina is interrupted by a noble who demands her aid on a mysterious project.  Rejection only fuels his passion, and soon Lina and Gourry are entangled by his dark obsession.Or, that one where a crazy guy wants Lina's blood for nefarious purposes.





	1. I will stamp my fame on men's minds forever

**Author's Note:**

> A thousand thanks to my beta reader, idea sounding board, summary provider, and all around A+ friend, VesperRegina. All remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> The story title, chapter titles, and all quotes are from Stephen Mitchell's "Gilgamesh: A New English Version." I'm indebted to The Epic as it was a huge source of inspiration for this story. I recommend reading it- it's beautiful and tragic, and although a lot of the cultural markers are alien to the modern reader, there are several underlying threads that are so easy to relate to- love, grief, and the fear of death.

 

 

 

> "Though no one has seen death’s face or heard
> 
> death’s voice, suddenly, savagely, death
> 
> destroys us, all of us, young or old.”

Covered in soot and sweat, Gourry whistles cheerfully as he walks back to the inn, muscles aching in a way that speaks to a day of hard labor.  The occasional work in a smithy satisfies something in him that he can’t explain.  Perhaps it’s the honest work, or the ability to make something from nothing, or even the comfort of having a skill to fall back on someday.  Not that he’s interested in settling down any time soon, of course, but it’s good to have something else to fall back on, to _offer,_  should the need arise.  Whatever the reason, he’s pleased with his efforts today, which is all that really matters. Besides, it’s not in his nature to dwell on such things, so he enjoys it when he can and leaves it at that. 

The sun is riding low in the sky, painting streaks of pink and orange across the horizon.  He admires it as he moves, stomach grumbling loudly as if to enforce the lateness of the hour.  In hindsight, skipping lunch hadn’t been the best choice.  Still, he had finished more work than he promised, and the extra coins jingle merrily in his pocket.  Dinner is only a few blocks away, and the situation will soon be remedied.

Their favorite inn in the city of Myrrka also housed their third favorite restaurant, all owned and managed by an old woman who was particularly fond of Lina’s antics.  This fondness often led to free baked goods and an exasperated overlooking of the sorceress’s more destructive tendencies, which may have had a hand in their ranking system.  He wonders if Kala will be supervising the dinner rush that night, and if so, how much cake they can charm out of her.  This turns his thoughts back to dinner, and Lina, who was supposed to be meeting him there. 

He wonders if she’ll be on time, how many books she’ll have stolen from the research library, and whether he should wait for her in the highly likely event of her lateness.  Punctuality has never been Lina’s strongest personality trait, let alone deep into research mode.  Plus, he’s starving.  However, it’s also highly likely that she will kill him for eating without her.  Between the proverbial rock and hard place, Gourry ponders the issue for the last few blocks of his walk and is immediately relieved to see the girl in question as he strolls into the building.  Relief gives way to a brief flare of jealousy, then mellows to curiosity.

There’s a man seated across from her, his fancy gray silk tunic and prominent emerald medallion looking out of place at The Viridian Jewel.  It isn’t a shabby establishment by any means, but the attention-screaming wealth he is wearing says it wouldn’t be a place a man like him typically set foot.  He is ignoring his surroundings completely, talking enthusiastically at the sorceress, and leaning in too close.  Lina looks annoyed and suspicious but not alarmed (or interested), so Gourry keeps whistling and drifts right.  Dodging other patrons and a few of the wait-staff as he moves through the room, he places himself in her line of sight.  She acknowledges him with a nod but doesn’t wave him over, so he leans against the wall and simply waits.  The stranger looks a little more than twice her age, dark brown hair lightly touched with silver. 

The man keeps talking, smile a touch too wide, but he never reaches for her hands or tries to present her with any type of gift or money.  Something in Gourry’s chest relaxes as it becomes obvious that this isn’t one of the fanboys who show up from time to time, half in love with Lina on stories alone.  She doesn’t exactly _know_ about most of those, and if pressed, Gourry will insist that he only chased them off to keep her ego at a manageable size.  Obviously, that is mostly a lie, but it’s a lie he can live with. 

So, if it wasn’t a crush, the next best guess is potential employer.  The body language seemed off for that, more excited than desperate, but it was hard to tell from across the room.  Regardless of the situation, there’s something in the man’s bearing that puts Gourry on edge, and he finds himself hoping Lina will turn down any job offer.  A lot of money would probably sway her, but she’s pretty obsessed with some magic theory thing this week, so he isn’t sure which way she will go.

With nothing else to do, Gourry watches and waits, dreaming about dinner and a hot bath.  Eventually, Lina signals him, and he strolls over, face stern, trying for that ‘professional but tough’ vibe the rich seemed to like, just in case it _is_ a client.  Lina waves at him lazily when he approaches, eyes never leaving her new companion’s face.

“This is my bodyguard, Gourry Gabriev,” she announces.  “Gourry, this is Lord Vincent Copas and he’s on his way out.”

Between her steely gaze and the arms crossed over her chest, it’s obvious what she wants him to do.  The only time she refers to him as a body guard is when she wants him to act like one.  He’s never minded the role, and his hand drops easily to the hilt of his sword as he gives a polite nod to the stranger.

“Let me walk you to the door,” he says amicably.  The man doesn’t acknowledge him, eyes fixed across the table.

“Ms. Inverse, please reconsider.  You can set the meeting, anywhere you’ll feel safe.  Surely you understand the need for privacy when discussing one’s life work.”

 “Not interested,” she answers, waving towards the door.  Gourry takes a step forward and the man rises to his feet.

“No need to sic your hired goon on me.  Please think about my offer.  I’ll be staying at the Golden Mare for the rest of the week.  Send me a message if you reconsider.”  The man shoots her a tight-lipped smile and walks away.  He doesn’t stop or speak to anyone on his way out, but Lina watches the doorway after he’s gone like she’s expecting something else to happen.  Gourry plops down in the now-vacant chair and reaches over to poke her hand.  Her attention snaps his way and she frowns.

“I think we’re still being watched.  A guy like that would never come here alone,” she murmurs with a frown.  “Follow my lead, okay?”

He nods as she gets to her feet.

“A bonus?” she snickers in a voice too loud to be meant for him. “You don’t get a bonus for standing there.  You didn’t even have to kick him out!”

Gourry shrugs, leans back in his chair. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Lina tsks and rolls her eyes, snapping, “Come get me when once you’ve cleaned up,” before stalking away.  Confused, and more annoyed than he wants to be, Gourry watches her disappear up the stairs towards their room.  He lets his emotions show plainly on his face and glares after her while deciding what to do.  He can’t follow her upstairs and grab clean clothes now, so he’s stuck in his dirty ones for the near future.  It’s not what he wants to do with his evening, but her instincts rarely lead them astray.  Casually, he lets his gaze wander over the dining room, and identifies a few people who might be watching them.  After noting their faces, he heads towards the baths to wash up as best he can.  He still doesn’t smell good, which everyone will just have to deal with.  On his way back through the dining room, he notices that one of his suspects has left but the other two haven’t moved.  He mulls it over as he climbs the stairs.  Stopping in front of their room he taps out his coded knock and waits until the lock clicks open.  Book in hand, Lina opens the door and ushers him in, then relocks it behind him.

“What’s going on?” Gourry asks without greeting, dropping down on the bed.  She scowls at him and shoves him half sideways to retrieve some of the notes he’d sat on.  It makes him chuckle, irritation evaporating under the weight of her glare, and it makes Gourry wonder if it’s weird that they enjoy annoying each other this much.  Finally, Lina sighs and sits on the other side of the bed, legs crossed.

“That guy you saw, Lord Copas?  He just sat down at my table and announced himself like I was supposed to have heard of him.”

“Had you?”

“Nope, and he was annoyed about it too.  Then he starts flattering me, laying it on thick, all ‘Oh Ms. Inverse, you’re one of the most powerful enchanters in the world’ and stuff like that.”

“So, what did he want?” Gourry asks.  “It had to be something big for him to lie like that.”

“Hey!” she yells indignantly, scooting closer to kick at him.  He laughs and catches her leg, holding it up until she thrusts her chin into the air, pointedly ignoring her defeat.  Gourry sets her leg down, deciding not to engage in that particular battle of wills, and waits for her to keep talking.  She turns to stare at her foot, which rests against his thigh, his fingers still wrapped around her ankle.  Lina looks away, color in her cheeks, and continues.

“Anyway, he starts talking about his research.  He says that he’s spent years researching something controversial, but he’s found an ethical approach, so I shouldn’t worry.  He’s close to a breakthrough but desperately needs my help.  I ask what field and what exactly he needs from me and _he_ says that he doesn’t want to be overheard but if I meet him alone he’ll tell me everything.”

Gourry frowns.  “That does sound fishy.”

“Exactly!  It’s like he invited me to my own murder and thinks I’m stupid enough to say yes?” she scoffs.  “That’s when I called you over.”

“I think you’re right about him leaving someone to watch you.  I’ll see if they’re still there when we go for dinner,” he tells her, absently stroking her ankle bone with his thumb.  He doesn’t realize he’s doing it until he notices her staring at her foot again and stops the motion entirely.

There’s an awkward silence, then she clears her throat and looks away, but doesn’t move.

“It was just a feeling.  There was just something off about this guy.  Whatever he wants, he’s not going to take no for an answer.”

“Why did you go with the hired body guard routine?” he asks.

“Just to scare him off, but then he totally dismissed you.  If he doesn’t think we’re friends,” she stumbles over the word, eyes drawn back to Gourry’s hand on her skin,  “he might try to use it to his advantage.  Or at the very least, he’ll underestimate you.”

“I’m game,” he replies, his smile wide and genuine.  She slips out of his grasp, avoiding eye contact, and gets to her feet.

“Let’s go eat!” she exclaims, false excitement used to cover her embarrassment.  He agrees easily and follows her lead.  Lina uses the pause in conversation to take a deep breath, calming the butterflies in her stomach.  It has been exactly eight months since she defeated Hellmaster Phibrizzo and saved Gourry.  If anyone asked, Lina would insist that nothing had changed since then.  Hey, _externally_ , that is completely true.  It was only a lie on a private level, which is no one’s business but her own.  On that private level, well. She can still easily deny her feelings to the world, but they’re impossible to deny to herself.  Despite what she had told her friends, she remembers exactly why she had cast the Giga Slave.  Everything after that is a blank, sure, but every moment until the spell failed is there.  It doesn’t matter though.

None of it means that Gourry feels the same.  Sure, he’d saved her back, but he always did that, from the first day they met.  It wasn’t like he had started acting much different.  He still teases her all the time, pats her head like an older brother, mussing her hair when he’s feeling really obnoxious.  Friendship things.  ‘Lina is a kid I take care of’ things.  Sure, he touches her more now.  Nothing that had required a fireball to the face and nothing necessarily romantic.  Just the occasional stroke to her arm, the lingering of a hand on hers, a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder. Fingers wrapped casually around her ankle.  It could mean _something_ , or it could mean nothing.  Which is exactly where she has been sitting for eight months.

Lina sighs and ignores Gourry’s questioning look.  Besides, even if his feelings are romantic, she isn’t sure if she’s ready for things to change.  She certainly isn’t ready to risk what they have now, in any case.  _Either way_ , she tells herself, _it will work itself out_.  If Gourry’s feelings _are_ romantic, he’ll probably slip up before she will.  Lina is excellent at keeping secrets, after all.

Problem revaluated and once again shoved aside, the sorceress focuses on finding a table.  Once seated, Gourry gives her a little nod that indicates, yes, she was right. (Like she had any doubt there.)  There was nothing to be done about it, and they were both starving, so naturally they ordered like it was any other night.  Dinner is its normal round of combat, each bite a victory over the other person.  (Secretly, they would both admit that it was their favorite part of the day.)  Once the meal is over and the grudging staff has lugged all the dishes away, Lina sits back and sighs contentedly.

“Is our friend still here?” she asks quietly, picking at her teeth.  Gourry makes a humming noise of confirmation, knuckles tapping twice on the table to indicate how many suspects he has in mind.  If it had been only one obvious choice, she would have suggested that they just grab and interrogate him.  That wasn’t really an option though.

“What do you want to do?” she asks.

“Head upstairs.  I have a plan,” he replies.

She narrows her eyes, the insult to his intelligence plain in her expression.  They both consider it an improvement that she doesn’t say it aloud.

“Go on.” He waves.  She considers it, desperate for the details, but after a moment of indecision she just nods and leaves him to it.  He doesn’t watch her go, hailing to a server instead.  Adopting an air of bored indifference, Gourry orders an ale and starts talking boisterously to those around him.  The dinner crowd is flowing out and the drinking crowd is wandering in, so his behavior isn’t too out of place.  He joins a table of mercenaries for a hand of cards, telling some of his own more-or-less true stories while guzzling his drink.  One of the men he had been watching wanders out while Gourry regales the table with his troll-fighting exploits, leaving only one suspect. 

As the night wears on he keeps the ale coming, although he spills or abandons more than he drinks as he circulates the room.  It is expensive and time consuming, the sword-for-hire act, but it isn’t _hard_.  He keeps talking, and drinking, and flirting loudly with the waitresses as he watches his suspect out of the corner of his eye.  The man is still there through it all, sitting alone, pretending to drink less convincingly than Gourry.  His head is tipped down, shaggy chestnut hair falling to his shoulders.

At some point, Gourry wanders back to the cards, but luck doesn’t accompany him.  Plus, drinking for show is slowly catching up with him and the room is moving in sluggish circles.  After another few disastrous rounds, the man finally makes his move, and Gourry nearly blows it all by sighing in relief.  The would-be spy sits down across from him, making sure the small coin purse in his hand rattles loudly.  He holds it carefully but in plain view.

“I’m here to make you an offer,” he says without preamble, hazel eyes pinched with distaste.

“Sounds interesting.” Gourry slurs with very little acting, eyes on the money.

“My employer needs to speak with Lina Inverse.  She dismissed him earlier, but he’s sure she’ll be interested if she hears him out.”

Gourry gives him a vacant look, pretends to let the words sink before wrinkling his nose.

“That Lord Fancy-Pants guy?  Yeah, he really annoyed her.”

“Lord _Copas_ regrets that.  He’d like to make a better impression.”

“I don’t think she’ll go for it.”

“That’s why we need your help,” The man says slowly, as though speaking to a child.  Gourry lets suspicion cloud his face.  As much as he wants this all to be over, giving in too soon won’t be believable. 

“I can’t set her up.  She’s a pain in the ass but the pay is good.”

“My master just wants to talk to her.  She won’t be in any danger.  Arrange it as an accidental meeting in a place of your choosing.  Only Lord Copas and I will be attending, you have my word.  Your help will be much appreciated,” the stranger replies, bouncing his occupied hand just a bit to draw attention back to it.

Gourry shakes his head in the negative but falls silent, fingers drumming on the table, eyes drifting from the card table to the gold and back again.

“Unless you think that you can’t take one noble and his guard if it came down to it…” the man murmurs, the ploy more desperate than Gourry is expecting.  He doesn’t have to fake his derisive snort, mildly offended that this man thinks he would throw away Lina’s safety over such obvious posturing, even if he had spent the last two hours play-acting for that purpose.

“Hey man, what’s your name anyway?” Gourry asks, throwing the stranger off guard.  “A man’s word isn’t worth much if I don’t even know his name.”

The man blinks, eyes narrowing as his frown deepens. 

“Duncan Mez,” he answers finally, switching the purse to his left hand and holding out his right.  Gourry shakes it and grins.

“Well, Duncan Mez, I suppose there’s no harm in a conversation.”

Relief passes over Duncan’s face, there and gone again fast enough that Gourry wonders if he imagined it.  It seems at odds with the annoyed, judgmental man sitting across from him.

“Send word to me at the Golden Mare with a time and place,” Duncan says and gets to his feet.

Gourry shakes his head, holds out his hand.  “Gold first.”

The man smirks, distaste in his eyes again, and pours coins into Gourry’s palm.

“Half now, half after the meeting.”

Gourry pockets the money and gives a mock salute before downing the rest of his mug, Duncan disappearing out the door before he can signal for another.  He gets another anyway, nursing it while he plays a final hand.  It’s probably a waste of effort, but there’s no reason to chance it.

Finally, he heads to the bath, no longer caring about such trivial things as clothes.  He keeps it short, scrubbing off the worst of the day before wrapping a towel around his hips and heading upstairs.  There are hoots and good-natured cat calls as he goes, dirty clothes shoved under one arm.  He thinks to wave them off, only remembering his lack of free hands at the last moment, much to the disappointment of more than a few patrons.  Instead he gives a little bow to the room before disappearing down the hall to the sound of delighted laughter.

“It’s me,” he calls at their door, hands still unavailable.

“Why didn’t you just--“ Lina cuts herself off mid-sentence as she opened the door, face going bright red.

“Any room in there for me?” he asks, looking past her.  She scurries out of the room before he can tell her not to, yelling something about not stepping on her papers as she rushes down the hall. 

The bed and desk had been too small a study space, so she’d moved to the floor.  At least a dozen books are laying open in a semi-circle, and several more are piled up randomly around the room.  Notebooks and loose sheets of paper seem to have been flung about in some kind of tornado, or more likely a fit of “where the hell did I just put that” rage that he’s been unlucky enough to witness several times before.  He sighs and ignores his spinning head as he gets dressed, doing his best to heed her request.

Lina returns soon enough, knocking tentatively on the door.  He pulls it opens and sways, waving at the mess behind him.

“Hang on,” she says and moves past him, forcing him to hover in the doorway.  He yawns and leans heavily against the frame as she snatches her cloak from the back of the room’s lone chair.  She puts it on and begins to hold pockets open, stuffing whole stacks of books and notes away.

 “How many did you steal?” he wonders aloud.

“Steal is such an ugly word.  I prefer liberate, or indefinite loan.”

He snorts but can’t help his smile.

“Besides, most of these are going back tomorrow.  No harm done.  Except for that ink spill, but no one will know it was me.”

She moves through the mess quickly, consolidating her piles and notes, storing the excess away. He slides into the room once she’s finally cleared a path and drops gratefully onto the bed.  Lina returns her cape to the back of the chair and sits down on the floor, near her circle of open books.

“It took a while, but one of that guy’s lackeys approached me.  Paid me to tell him where you’ll be tomorrow so they can pay you a surprise visit.  He claims his boss just wants to talk.”

“How much?” Lina asks, distracted by her continued reorganization.  He leans down with a groan, snags his discarded trousers from the pile of his things, and fishes the coins out of his pocket. She’s so surprised by the amount that she says nothing for a long minute. 

“What could he possibly want from me?” she asks, reaching for the money.  He snatches his hand back, thrilled he could still move so fast with so much alcohol in him.

“I spent everything I had tonight!”

“You didn’t have a quarter of that to begin with!  I should at least get the rest,” she snaps, crossing her arms.

“I did all the work.”

“Yeah, but you’re selling me out, so I deserve at least half.  And I’m being generous here,” She replies stubbornly.

“I had more than a fourth,” He insists.

“Fine, I’ll take a third, and that’s my final offer.”

Gourry sighs and holds out his hand, admitting, “I’m too tired to keep arguing.”

She grins, victorious, fingers brushing his palm as she counts out her portion.  Money handled and put away, Gourry stretches, not bothering to stifle his yawn.

“Are we walking into the trap?” he asks.

“Normally, I would, just to find out what’s going on, but… um… there’s a little problem.  I can’t use magic right now,” She responds, flipping randomly through a book just so she won’t have to look at him.

“How much longer?”

“Two or three days?” she replies with a shrug.

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking it over, pushing past the alcohol and exhaustion.

“We could head out tonight.  It’s earlier than you planned, but he wouldn’t expect it.”

“Now I know you’re drunk.  That’s a terrible idea.  Not only does running off in the night seem like an overreaction, we’d be sitting ducks out there whenever we stopped for the night,” Lina answers, shaking her head.

“Even if you talk to him tomorrow, you’re still going to turn him down, right?”

“Probably.”

He ignores the unsure nature of her reply, not yet willing to fight about whether she should work for a guy this underhanded.

“So, what do you think he’ll do if you say no again?  I’d bet all the money I have that bribing me to sell you out is only the first trick up his sleeve.”

She makes a noise of agreement as she thinks it over, so he pushes on.

“We could hole up here, be on guard, waiting for him to make a move.  Or, we could head out in the morning.  Seyruun is only three days away, two and a half if we really push, and even if he figures out where we went, it’s not like he’ll get past the royal guard,” He reasons.   

“I’m not helpless without magic, you know.”

“I know.  It’s just… I have a bad feeling about this one.”

She sighs, putting aside the book in her hand.

“I don’t like the idea of leaving him out there in the world with a mystery agenda that involves me.”

Gourry can’t argue with that as he’s not particularly thrilled about it either.

“Then what do you want to do?” he asks, fighting the yawn this time.  She watches him for a moment, face softening as he struggles to hide his fatigue.

“I’ll tell you in the morning.  I still have some work to do, so get some sleep.”  
“Trade me,” Gourry urges, gesturing between the floor and the bed.  She shakes her head and points to her books.

“Not enough room.”

“Wake me up when you’re done, and we’ll switch,” he insists, stretching out on top of the blankets.

“Sure, sure,” she murmurs, attention already back on the pages before her.  He enjoys watching her like this.  Lina in research mode is the most single-minded he’s ever seen another person.  He likes the intensity that lines her face, the purity of the delight that blooms across her features when she’s found an answer.  He drifts off to the sound of rustling pages and Lina’s soft breathing, content in a way he hopes he can admit to her someday.

*

When he wakes again, there’s sunlight filtering through the curtains.  He’s still on the bed, covered with one of their travel blankets.  Lina’s spread out on her own bedroll on the floor, just out of reach.  It wasn’t her turn to sleep there and he’s surprised that she hadn’t kicked him off the bed once she’d finally finished reading.  In the last year, they’d fallen into a comfortable pattern when it came to necessary room sharing. (Although, the twinkle in Kala’s eye as she’d apologized for the inconvenience made him wonder how necessary this particular instance really was.)  Lina finally trusts him enough to share a bed if it’s big enough for two.  If not, they alternate who sleeps on the floor.  She normally keeps a precise tally, a bizarre streak of fairness in her over the situation.

Gourry shifts onto his side to better study her as he considers it.  There’s ink smeared on her hands, her nose, and her left ear.  Her limbs are stretched out wide, pillow knocked closer to him than to her, but at least her blanket has managed to stay over her torso.  She hadn’t even bothered to change for bed.  Maybe he shouldn’t be picking apart an act of kindness.  In fact, it seems kind of ungrateful.  It’s just that he doesn’t always understand her choices.  Sometimes, he thinks they’re moving towards _something_ , that she feels what he does.  Other times, she acts like she doesn’t want him around at all.  He sighs and shakes it off before climbing out of bed.

“Morning, sunshine,” Gourry says, leaning down and gently shaking her shoulder.

She moans and throws an arm over her eyes.  “You’d better be glad I can’t use magic right now.”

She continues to grumble, and he smiles as he digs through his pack and pulls out clean clothes.  She mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “I hate you” when he doesn’t reply and he lets it pass.

“Did you decide what you’re going to do about that guy?”

Lina sits up and rubs her face, yawning widely before answering.

“The one real option we have is talking to him.  It’s the only way to find out what exactly he wants from me.  Plus, he doesn’t know that I can’t use magic right now.”

 “And then what?”  
“I’ll go from there.” She shrugs.

“I don’t like it,” he says, sitting back on his heels.

“If you have a better plan, I’m all ears.”

Lina rolls her eyes at his silence.  “Send the message.  Tell him I’ll be at the library all day.  It’s as good a place as any, and I’m not letting him interrupt my plans.”

“I’ll tell him to come early.  Might as well get it over with.  I’ll meet you for breakfast in an hour?”

She nods her agreement and climbs to her feet.  Still fully dressed, she leaves the room first and heads to the privy while leaving him to change.  One thing that she hadn’t mentioned was that she was terribly curious as to what could be worth the money and the subterfuge.  Sure, he could be some rich weirdo with nothing interesting to say, but she has the feeling there’s more to it than that.  Lina keeps thinking about it, returning to an empty room.  With no new insights, she focuses on preparing for the day to come.


	2. I would ask him how to overcome death

> “The handsome young man, the lovely young woman—
> 
> In their prime, death comes and drags them away.”

 

 

After breakfast, Gourry walks with her to the library, chatting about nothing.  She lets her mind wander as the sound of his voice fades into the background.  Lord Copas obviously didn’t want to make a scene, which was why he’d gone with bribery as his first tactic.  Would that concern for public appearance last further than her next refusal?  Perhaps they were misreading the man, letting past experiences with his type cloud their thinking now.  He hadn’t so much as uttered a threat, and neither had his lackey, so why the worry?  Lina had met tons of paranoid sorcerers who guarded their work obsessively.  Still, it _felt_ like a trap no matter how much she tried to talk herself out of it.  Her nerves were up, that was all, because she was less informed and less armed than she liked to be. 

Gourry’s hand lands on her shoulder, startling her out of her reverie, and its only then that she realizes she’s walked a block past the library.  She wonders how long ago her companion had stopped talking, unhappy that she’s let her distraction be so noticeable.  Lina grunts in annoyance over the whole situation, ignores his concerned look and shakes him off, stomping back towards her destination.

*

They’re stuck in the back of the building, holed up in a medium-sized room with nothing but a large desk and a single chair.  It’s one of those by appointment things that supposedly fill up months in advance.  People who refuse to wait for a private room clog up the isles and parts of the floor, their own books and research spread out around them like Lina had the night before.  The library is busy but eerily quiet, everyone sucked into their own little world.

Hours pass, and Lina doesn’t seem to notice how slowly.  Normally, Gourry would leave or at least nap, but being on guard duty means he can’t do either because he’s stuck waiting for the threat to show up (the threat is late, by the way, which is pretty rude).  He’s so bored that he’d made the rookie mistake of asking Lina what she was researching.  Predictably, this launched her into a lecture about the history of an ancient kingdom and a lost form of magic, and that’s all he’d managed to hear before her voice became white noise.  At least the ensuing fight was entertaining, despite the angry shushing that somehow made it through the closed door.

Gourry is staring at the book he’d grabbed at random, wondering why the author had wasted two full pages to say “it was too long ago, we’ll never know” when he notices the sound of heavy foot falls moving towards them.  Library types walk softly, unwilling to disturb their fellow readers, but these steps are loud and unconcerned.  As they move down the hall, there is the unmistakable rattle of a sword in a cheap sheath.

He taps the cover of his book sharply, Lina’s eyes snapping up to meet his.  He nods towards the hall and sets the book down, pulling himself to his feet.  Lina goes back to the appearance of reading, but he can see the tension in her shoulders as he leans against the wall.  The door swings open and Duncan moves through the threshold first, followed a moment later by Lord Copas.

“Ms. Inverse?” he calls out to her, feigned surprise in his voice.  Lina looks up, lets her totally _un_ feigned irritation spill into her expression.

“You again?  Are you following me?”

“Of course not,” Copas answers immediately, all shock and mild offense.  “I was studying and heard another mage mention you were here.”

His complete sincerity and ease at lying makes Gourry shift uncomfortably.  He should be used to this kind of thing by now, given that Lina is a pro, but it still makes him wonder what kind of person could do it so easily.  Duncan eyes him, watching his face and his hand, which has drifted to rest on the hilt of his sword.  The other man moves closer, putting himself in-between Gourry and Lord Copas. 

“And you figured you’d try your mystery sales pitch again?” she snarks.

“Something like that,” The noble admits, voice taking on an icy politeness.  Lina’s attitude and lack of deference bothers him in such an obvious way, but he’s struggling to cover it.  That just intrigues her more.  Lina sighs.  “Fine.  Since you’re here, you might as well.”

He smiles in a way that others probably find charming but just creeps her out. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

_Unlikely_ , she thinks, but replies with a non-committal, “We’ll see.”

“Let me start by reminding you that my research is controversial.  You’ll have an automatic reaction to condemn it and me.  Please keep an open mind.”

_That bodes well._ She waves him on.

“I’m going to cure the human race of death, and I need your help to do it.”

The expression on Lina’s face has Gourry’s fingers wrapping tighter around his hilt.  She swallows hard and manages, “What are we talking about here?”

“Immortality,” the lord answers easily.  She falls silent for a moment, at a loss for what to say.  Finally, she gets to her feet, moving the chair so that it doesn’t hinder a possible escape.

“I was right the first time.  I’m not interested.”

“Hear me out,” he orders.  She shakes her head and looks at Gourry, who pushes off the wall, abandoning his causal air.  Duncan matches his stance.

“There are ethical ways to do this research.  Others haven’t cared enough to try, but I’m doing this to _save_ lives, not take them.  With animal testing-“

“That’s not reliable at all!  Everyone knows that due to-“

“The size and density of our spirit on the astral plane, that animals aren’t comparable to humans, yes.  Now please stop interrupting me.”

She eyes him suspiciously, curiosity warring with common sense.

“Go on.” she says finally, arms crossed over her chest.

“You see, none of that matters.  That’s what others have gotten wrong.  It isn’t a spiritual problem, simply a biological one.  The answer is so simple.”

His eyes are frantic, searching her face for any hint of encouragement.  She nods slowly, showing that she was following his logic, and he smiles again before continuing.

“It all comes down to a person’s magical capacity.  As you know, there are plenty of spells to measure such a thing.  I favor the one administered by the Sorcerer’s Guild.”

“I don’t follow,” she replies, leaning forward, hands resting on the edge of the desk.  The light in her eyes worries Gourry.  It was the same look that dragged them across countries on rumor alone, that brought hours in libraries and temples as she tracked down every whisper of the thing she was looking for.

“We can tap into a person’s magical capacity and use it to fuel a perpetual healing spell.  Imagine it varying in strength between a Recovery to something stronger than a Resurrection, depending on the need.  It would heal all the normal bodily declines attributed to aging, freeing the subject from the aging process.  The spell would be constant, so it would begin its work the moment an injury occurred, much like a troll’s healing ability, yet stronger still.  Even fatal injuries would be cured before the subject could die.  Stab wounds would be healing before the blade even left the body.  Heartbeat and brain function sustained, even in the case of catastrophic injury.  A severed head kept alive until it can be reattached.  The possibilities are endless.” 

Silence follows his impassioned speech, all three men watching Lina as she thinks it through.  Lord Copas’s excitement radiates from him, suddenly sure of his acceptance. 

“That’s not sustainable overall,” she says slowly. “Even if you can create this never-ending spell, and it actually worked as well as you’re claiming, the energy drain itself would kill the person eventually. And what about people with no magical capacity?”

“Ah, of course you close in on the problem immediately, I’d expect nothing less,” he flatters, but Lina just raises an eyebrow and waits for him to continue.

“Achieving immortality in the way I’m theorizing is a two-fold problem that requires two different answers.  The first issue is working out the spell itself.  It must be worked differently than a common healing spell, lower impact.  It needs to run along with one’s other background body functions, like breathing.  That part is simple enough.  I came up with the spell years ago.  It’s the second part that is truly difficult.  It’s true that most people wouldn’t have a high enough magical capacity to run the immortality spell.  It’s taken me years to figure out the answer.  I will simply measure a person’s individual capacity and determine how much larger that capacity must be to house the immortality spell.”

 “What good would that do?” she asks skeptically. 

“I’ve created a potion to address the difference.” Copas answers easily, as if this is the most reasonable thing in the world.

“You can’t… _create_ magical capacity in someone.  It’s something you’re born with.  Or without,” She protests, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“That’s where you come in.” The man pauses to smile genially.  “I’ll admit, I paid handsomely for your admittance file into the Sorcerer’s Guild.  You have the highest magical capacity of anyone I’ve seen so far.  Surely it’s expanded now that you’ve housed The Lord of Nightmares in your own body.”

“How do you know about that?” She fights the lump in her throat to ask. 

“Rumors spread.  If one has enough money and time, it’s easy enough to track the source.”

_Martina_ , Lina thinks irritably, unable to come up with another suspect on the spot.

“Your magical capacity is large enough to fuel the spell, I’m sure of it.  And it’s so easily accessible.  It contains within it the echoes of the power you’ve used over your life, all of it right there in your veins.  Blood is not only the key to life, Ms. Inverse, it’s also the key to magic.”

It’s a rare occurrence, but Lina is completely speechless, mind racing in too many directions.  He continues as if her silence is agreement, all condescending tone and gracious smiles.  
“The measurements of each ingredient will differ from person to person, based on the initial size of their ability.  The ingredients will bond your blood to the subject, leading their body to read your blood as their own.  This will create the necessary capacity in the subject.”

The scholar in her has a thousand questions, but common sense and a healthy dose of self-preservation makes her shake her head.

 “You can’t have my blood,” she blurts out, backing away from him and the desk.

“You wouldn’t be in any danger.  I would never ask for a fatal amount.” He rushes to assure her. “The process would be slow.  I have a theory that once we’ve been met with success, the blood of the test subjects can be used in the same way, lessening your burden.  It would be a long while before we could test-“

“Even if I believed all your claims, which I don’t, I still wouldn’t help you,” Lina says gently, kinder than Gourry was expecting.  There’s a sadness on her face that he has rarely seen, and he knew that she too was thinking of a pretty corpse in a glass coffin, reanimated lips begging for death.

“How can you deny the world a chance to live forever?” Copas asks in utter dismay.

“It’s just… wrong.  Death is part of what makes us human.  I’ve seen what happens when people ignore that.”

Fury blooms across the noble’s face and he surges forward, hands slamming on the desk.  Gourry moves to intervene but Duncan blocks him, sword drawn.

“I _will_ cure death,” Lord Copas growls.  “And you will help me do it.”

“How are you going to make me?” Lina demands as she moves backwards, putting as much distance between them as she can.  He gapes at her, as if he hadn’t thought that far ahead.  It occurs to her then that he _hadn’t_ thought that far ahead. Vincent Copas had walked into this room truly believing that she would agree to his scheme.  This is somehow as terrifying as the rage in his eyes.

Duncan and Gourry are standing perfectly still, waiting for the situation between the other two to play out.  If Copas attacks Lina, Gourry would make it to her, but not as quick as he might want.  Despite the cheap sword in the other’s man hand, his stance indicates that he knows how to use it.

“I will never help you.  If I ever see you again, you’ll be eating a Dragon Slave,” Lina says coldly, earlier softness gone from her tone.

“You’re making a mistake,” Copas replies desperately, dropping his hands to his sides in defeat.

“Go,” Gourry orders, eyes on Duncan rather than the noble.

“My Lord?” the man asks carefully, edging a step closer to Gourry.  With a snarl of inarticulate rage, Copas sweeps out of the room, leaving Duncan to sheath his sword and scurry after him.  Gourry follows them out of the building and watches until they disappear down the street.

When he returns, Lina is calmly organizing her work.

“We should pack up and go, now,” Gourry says as he sheathes his sword.

“Nothing’s changed about that plan since last night.”

“We can’t just stay in Myrrka.  That guy is crazy, Lina.”

She stops her busy work and sighs, finally meeting his gaze.  It’s obvious that she’s rattled, fingers tapping against the desk.  “I know.  I’ve seen priests with less zeal.  He’s not going to give up.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Lay low and head to Seyruun as soon as I can use magic again.  It’s obvious that he cares about his image, so I don’t think he’ll risk an open attack while we’re still in town.  Whatever magic he or his bodyguard have is weaker than mine, otherwise he wouldn’t need me.”

“I don’t have a better idea,” he admits.  “But I don’t like this.”

“Me either,” she agrees.  “Let me finish this and we’ll head back.”

*

They linger at the library for another half hour before Lina declares that her concentration is ruined, and they might as well find a late lunch.  She dumps her supplies away into her cloak along with at least three books that don’t belong to her as she announces this.  Gourry smiles; no matter what life throws at them, he can always count on her to remain unchanged.

She glances up in time to catch his soft expression and quickly looks down at the table, feeling awkward.  Lina hates feeling awkward, hates the way her stomach has started turning into a fluttery mess so regularly.

“What?” she snaps with more heat than the situation warrants.

“Nothing,” he answers easily, unfazed by the shift in her mood.

She shakes off the moment and leads him outside, using lunch plans as the ultimate distraction.  The rest of the day passes uneventfully, but the encounter leaves Gourry feeling apprehensive.  Lina mocks him for being overly cautious, but he figures someone needs to be.  Besides, he sees the way her eyes scan the streets around them and knows the bravado for what it is.  She’s nervous too, regardless as to what she’ll admit.  Despite that, she refuses to hide away from some entitled rich jerk.  Instead, she eats outside in open defiance to good sense and then visits a few of her favorite stores, carrying on as if nothing’s happened.  Gourry lets her do what she wants without arguing, mostly because nothing good could come of them being shut up in their room together for so long.

Later, at dinner, they plan the next day in-between food battles, arguing and laughing as if there isn’t a threat hanging over Lina’s head.  They bicker comfortably all the way upstairs.  She sighs dramatically as she drops her cloak and shoulder guards in a pile on the floor, rolling her shoulders and stretching.  Gourry has fallen silent, his expression distant when she glances over at him.  He’s moving through his own routine, slowly unbuckling armor and setting it carefully in the corner after propping his sword against the wall.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Lina calls, voice teasing, as she strips off her gloves and adds them to her pile.

“You,” he answers thoughtlessly, then freezes when his brain catches up with his mouth.  “And that Copas guy.”

“Right.”

“I mean… I’m just glad you didn’t want to help him even if it wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Did my answer surprise you?” she asks, weirdly hurt by his doubt.  Why do all her friends think so poorly of her?  First that reaction when Seygrum was offering that immortality pledge, and now this… it was insulting, honestly.  So what if she was, occasionally, a little power hungry?  She had lines she wouldn’t cross, and it felt like Gourry should know that by now.

 He takes a moment to think about his answer, which doesn’t really help.  She’s considering taking out those hurt feelings on his face via her trusty slipper when he finally answers.

“Not exactly.  It’s just that you like to figure things out.  And after he swore he could test it on animals… I’m not saying you’d want to live forever, or that you’d help that guy do it, but you might want to know if his idea will work.”

She says nothing, arms crossed over her chest, as she contemplates his explanation.  Finished with his armor, he moves closer to her, regretting that he’d mentioned it at all.  It didn’t always pay to be honest with Lina, especially with things like this.

“I’m--“ he begins, apology ready.

“Shh,” she cuts him off, tapping her chin.  A long moment later, she glances up as if surprised by his nearness, but doesn’t move.

“I’m not mad,” Lina decides.  “You’re not exactly wrong.  There’s a lot of things I wanted to ask about his theory, but I couldn’t risk fueling his insane obsession.”

Gourry shrugs, unconcerned about this admission.  He’d already known, after all.  It only matters to him what she does in the end, and he tells her so.  She nods slowly, eyes on his, and takes a half-step closer.  It feels odd to have actually considered his opinion instead of just fire-balling him, even odder to admit to herself that she _cares_ about that opinion.  He blinks down at her, momentarily unsure, before his hand finds its way to her cheek.  She tips her face up, entranced by the way he’s looking at her, by the feel of his knuckles gliding over the line of her jaw.  His eyes drift to her lips, expression thoughtful, and she moves just an inch closer in response.

A shriek of laughter from the hall has them jumping guiltily apart, Lina’s face bright red as she leans down to remove her boots.

“I’ll, ah, go get changed,” he announces, grabbing pajamas and moving quickly out of the room.  She doesn’t miss the smile as he goes but chooses to ignore it.  In fact, Lina does an amazing job of rationalizing the moment away, uncaring how ridiculous it sounds in her own head.  Ramifications would come later, but it had been a long day and she isn’t in the mood for a revelation or even a fairly obvious admission.

Gourry, on the other hand, is still grinning ear-to-ear as he heads towards the changing room off the baths.  The look on her face, the way she’d moved closer to him…  Since he does _not_ live in a place of denial, he sees the signs for what they are.  Lina Inverse had wanted to kiss him, and he had almost managed to do so.  Sure, her face matching the color of her hair indicates that she’s not quite ready for a heart-to-heart, but he finally knows how she sees him.  Lina takes a long time to get places, emotionally speaking, and he’s happy to wait for what is on the horizon.

He changes quickly in the small room and makes his way back upstairs, determined to act as normal as possible.  It was always best to give her space when things got too personal.  She would bring it up when she was ready.

Lina greets him casually as she opens the door, earlier embarrassment locked down tight.  She had dressed for bed as well and busies herself with turning down the blankets as he locks the door.

“I’m going to bed.  You can leave the lamp on if you want.”

He frowns.  “If you want some time alone, I can-“

“No,” she cuts him off, shakes her head.  “I’m exhausted, really.  Probably just from staying up too late last night.”

He studies her face, noticing the dark smudges beneath her eyes.

“I could use some extra sleep,” he replies.

They’re quiet as they complete their respective pre-bed rituals, moving around each other with the ease of long practice.  Gourry finishes first so he moves to the lamp and waits until she crawls under her blanket to blow it out.  As he moves carefully towards his bedroll, Lina reaches out and catches his hand, bolder in the dark. Her fingers are warm around his, and he knows their almost-kiss wasn’t a fluke. 

“Thanks,” she says softly.  “For looking out for me today.”

A joking brush-off flies to his lips, a force of habit, but the moment feels too fragile for it. He swallows it back and gives her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

 “Good night, Lina,” he says as he settles down on the floor.  She murmurs her response and breathes out a soft snore nearly in the same breath.  While Lina had fallen asleep almost instantly, it takes longer for Gourry.  He listens to the sounds of the inn and Lina’s gentle snoring, the hum of summer bugs outside the cracked window.  Eventually he drifts off, the previous night’s easy peace nowhere to be found.

 

*

Something wakes him.  He lays in the dark, disoriented and waiting.  Movement on the floor next to him has him bolting up, reaching blindly for his sword.

“Gourry,” Lina says, voice weak and _wrong_.  It takes him a moment to realize that she’s fallen out of bed and the thump of it must be what woke him.  He’s torn between reaching for her or lighting the lamp.  Chooses the light after a moment of indecision, and winces against the flame.  Lina’s laying on her side, too still, arm outstretched towards where he’d been sleeping.  There’s blood rushing from her nose, soaking the front of her shirt, dripping onto the floorboards.

Panic clenches his throat but he pushes himself forward, dropping to his knees to check for a pulse.  He can’t find it at first, the heat of her skin too distracting. Finally, he finds it, beating too slow beneath his fingertips.

“Lina?” he calls her name, groping blindly for the nearest blanket.  Repeats her name three more times as he wraps her up, lifts her into his arms.  She mumbles once, eyelids fluttering, before falling still and silent once more.  Gourry pulls her tight as panic claws in his chest like a physical being.  Blood soaks into his pajama top, hot and shocking, distracting enough to push fear away.

“I’m getting help,” he says, more for his benefit than hers.  “You’re going to be okay.”

He struggles with the door, barely manages to close it (only bothering because when Lina is well again, she’d kill him for leaving it open).  After that, he runs as fast as he dares.  There’s a healer a block past the smithy, where he’d once taken an apprentice after a nasty burn.  It’s the middle of the night but he’ll kick down the door if necessary.

Later, he’ll hate himself for running into the night unarmed and shoeless, for not paying attention to his surroundings, for a hundred other things, but for now he runs.  His whole world has contracted to Lina, who lays motionless and bleeding in his arms.  He makes it three blocks before two unfamiliar men step out into the street, blocking his path.  Gourry pivots but is blocked from behind as well.  Duncan Mez and Lord Copas are there, the first with his sword drawn.  The street is deserted except for them, the windows of the storefronts shuttered and dark.  Only the near-full moon illuminates the threat around him.

“I’m sorry it’s come to this,” Copas sighs, something like regret in his voice.


	3. my heart is sick for my friend

 

> “And yet we build houses, make contracts, brothers
> 
> divide their inheritance, conflicts occur--
> 
> As though this human life lasted forever.”

 

 

“What did you do to her?” Gourry snarls, ignoring the armed men closing in behind him.

“All she needs is an antidote,” the lord replies, pulling a vial from his pocket.  “Come with me and she’ll have it.  I need her alive, after all.”

Of course it was poison.  How could he have missed it?  Gourry struggles to find another plan, anything other than giving into the man in front of him.  But Lina’s breathing is labored and there’s fire burning beneath her skin.

 “Give it to her now.  There’s no way I can outrun or outfight your men.”

Copas seems to debate it for a moment before shaking his head in the negative.

“Let’s get out of the street.  We have a wagon nearby.  Come.”

Wordlessly, Gourry follows.  It’s a short walk down the block and into an alley.  He doesn’t miss the proximity to the healers, noting how well-thought-out their plan had been. The promised cart is there, small and attached to a single horse.  Another man sits on the bench, holding the reins, a sword at his hip.  Gourry gently sets Lina down in the back of the wagon and turns to Copas expectantly.

“Antidote,” he says through clenched teeth.

“She made this harder than it had to be,” the noble says prissily and hands over the vial, its liquid shining blue in the moonlight.  Gourry ignores him and moves back to his charge.  He grabs the edge of the blanket and wipes her face, heart stuttering as he sees that blood is still oozing from her nose. 

“Lina, wake up.  You have to drink this.”

She doesn’t move, breathing too shallow.  He fights the urge to check her pulse again, and shakes her, a little desperately.  “Please wake up.”

Finally, she stirs, voice incoherent.

“Drink this,” he coaxes and uncorks the vial with his teeth.  Carefully, he pours small amounts into her mouth until it’s gone.  Gourry looks up to find the whole party watching him, and knows that he’s been too obvious, but it hardly seems to matter now.  Some of the men look indifferent, while the disgust and judgment has disappeared from Duncan’s gaze.  Lord Copas looks thoughtful, and not in a good way. 

“Duncan found it odd that you didn’t ask for the rest of the money even though you escorted us to the street, but I figured you were just a forgetful drunkard,” he muses.  “I’m truly impressed with your act.”

“Go to hell.” Gourry snaps.  The noble scowls at him and waves Duncan forward.  There’s a strange metal ring in his hand, a hinge on one side and an opening on the other.  As the man moves forward, Gourry realizes belatedly what they intend to do.  He squares his shoulders, vibrating with anger.

“ _No_ ,” he spits.  Duncan sighs, the haughtiness of their earlier encounters gone, replaced with a tired kind of resignation.  Some part of Gourry realizes that he was not the only one playing a persona, but Duncan’s reasons don’t matter right now.

“You don’t have a choice.  You’re not the one we need alive.”

Gourry becomes very aware of the three sword-bearing men around him and, feeling like a traitor, helps Duncan slip the collar around Lina’s throat.  The other man locks it in place, and hands the key over to his master, who pockets it.

“We can’t have her turning her magic against us when she wakes,” Copas says with a self-satisfied smile, and Gourry has never wanted to kill a man as much as he does right now.  Instead, he climbs carefully over Lina’s prone form while Copas takes the guard’s place as driver and pulls her into his lap.  The cart lurches forward without a word, the guards walking to the sides. 

The ride is silent and fast-paced as they make their way out of town.  Gourry is spitefully pleased that the guards have to jog at some points to keep up.  They head east through the woods, using only game trails and a dim lighting spell, which slows the procession significantly.  The wheel gets stuck twice and Gourry stubbornly refuses to help as the men struggle to free it.  Apparently they’re too exhausted to force the issue and simply stare hatefully at him while they work to free it.  They move even slower after that, Duncan carefully leading the horse from the front.  Dawn is on the horizon when they finally stop, but it’s still dark enough to need the light spell.

Two men begin tending the horse, and Copas climbs down from the wagon.  He stretches and rubs his back, indifferent to his captives’ or guards’ own discomfort.  

“Your antidote isn’t working,” Gourry tells him.  It’s been a couple hours, at least, and while Lina’s nose has finally stopped bleeding, her skin is too hot, her breathing still labored.  Copas seems surprised by this assertion and walks around to the back of the wagon where he can easily reach her.  He checks her pulse and Gourry fights the urge to knock his hand away.  The noble frowns and turns to one of the men tending the horse, asking, “Which dish did you poison?”

“Pork buns.  It was an appetizer, so I figured they’d both be eatin’ ‘em.” the man answers, pushing a strand of long brown hair behind his ear.

Copas turns back to Gourry.  “I had Verril use enough for both of you.”

 “She ate them all.” Gourry says, his chest aching with regret.  He’d sacrificed the pork buns to get the beef stew, a normal dinner tactic.  Their dinner sparing seems far away now, as if days instead of hours have passed.  The noble frowns and reaches into his pocket to produce another vial.

Copas reaches for Lina again, but Gourry stops him, pulling the vial out of his hand.  The noble huffs but moves past it, saying instead, “The first dose was given soon enough to start fighting the effects.  It will take longer for her to recover than I had hoped, but she’ll be fine within a day or so.”

After he has administered the second vial, Gourry is hustled out of the cart and led towards the mouth of a cave a few yards away from where they’d stopped.  The guards light torches as they enter, illuminating a large cavern.  The smell is pungent and immediate, cheap tallow in the wicks.  Still, they burn brightly enough, illuminating a few oddly-sized doors to the right, wood cut to cover preexisting holes, hinges drilled right into the rock.  He’s led across the space to a gaping hole in the stone, which reveals crudely carved stairs leading down into the earth.  The whole party descends single file.  It’s steep and difficult while carrying another person, but Gourry manages.  He refuses to let these people touch her if he can help it. 

The floor levels out after twenty-seven steps and is wide enough for two people to walk abreast.  There are three more doors in this area, two on the left and one on the right before the ground lurches downwards again.  Eighteen stairs, slightly wider than the last set, leads them to a rusted metal gate.  It stands open; Verril and another raven-haired man move past it to light two torches that hang in brackets on the wall.  Gourry is ushered forward, past the gate, into a final cavern nearly twice the size of the first one he’d seen.  He’s led over to the wall below the torches where a single pair of shackles have been bolted into the ground. 

“I’ll be back to collect my first sample tomorrow, once the poison has worked its way out of her system,” the noble tells him as Duncan locks a cuff around Lina’s wrist, then Gourry’s.

“Hey!  You can’t just leave us here without food or water.”

“Duncan will see to your basic needs.  If Ms. Inverse had cooperated, neither of you would be forced into such sub-adequate accommodations,” Copas says, as though scolding a wayward child.  He nods to his guards, who follow him back up the stairs.  Gourry shifts his focus to Duncan, who has stayed behind, staring the man right in the eyes.

“You have to know he’s crazy.  Why are any of you going along with this?”

Duncan looks away and shrugs.

“She should have helped.  Worst case scenario, he takes some blood and his formula fails.  It wouldn’t have cost her anything.”

“It’s _her_ blood, and she doesn’t have to give it to anyone,” Gourry snaps, frustrated.  Duncan looks back at him, jaw set, eyes burning with anger of his own.

“Sometimes sacrifice is necessary for the greater good.  Why does she get to decide other people’s fate just because she was born with a high magical capacity?  What about the rest of us?”

“You’re just as crazy as he is,” Gourry scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief.  Duncan sighs.

“We all do what have to.  I’ll be back with provisions.”

“Bring some towels too.” The blond calls as the other man walks towards the stairs.  He makes no reply, swinging the gate shut and locking it before disappearing from view.  The shackles plus the gate feels like overkill to Gourry, but it’s not like they’ll care about his opinion.

He gets as comfortable as possible and checks Lina over again.  There’s been no great change from in the cart to now, and with nothing else to focus on, panic breaks free of the place Gourry had shoved it.  Her fever has been high for so long, and he has no idea how much blood she’s lost.  He leans against the wall, fingertips resting gently against her throat, the sluggish beat of her pulse both comforting and terrifying.  The intensity of his anger falters, becoming background noise rather than the main event.  It leaves him exhausted, but he can’t bring himself to close his eyes.

Duncan returns at some point, places a burlap sack in front of him and leaves without saying a word.  After setting Lina down, Gourry digs through it, finding two water skins, some apples and fish jerky, a stale loaf of bread, and a single towel.  He wets a corner of the towel and sets to work on her face and neck, wiping away as much of the dried blood as he can.  It seems that her nose has finally stopped bleeding and he tries to view it as a good sign.  There’s nothing to be done about her hair or clothes, or even the skin below her collar, but he needs something useful to do.  Once he’s finished, he lays the towel out across the ground to dry and feeds her water slowly, as he had the antidote, until she moans and moves her face away.  The reaction is vaguely comforting, and he rewraps her in the stained inn blanket before settling her back on his lap.  He drifts off eventually, arms wrapped securely around her.

*

Lina wakes up slowly and without immediate alarm.  She’s hot and uncomfortable, and her whole body feels like it’s been run over by a team of horses, but she’s pressed against Gourry’s chest, so things must be okay.  Keeping her safe is his job, you know.  It’s embarrassing to admit, but she’d recognize the feel of his arms around her anywhere.  Between the times he’s carried her away from battle, and the times he’d held her when she’d screamed herself awake after Hellmaster, well, she’ll always associate this feeling with safety.  So, despite her discomfort, she stays still, dozing and listening to his heart beat under her ear.

The air feels pleasantly cool against her face, but it smells vaguely like soot and meat that’s just started to go bad.  It takes a long time for her to realize that she has no idea how she got here or _why_ her body feels all horse-trampled.  She tries to move then, as alarm creeps in, only to have Gourry’s arms snap tighter around her.  Startled, she looks up to find him blinking in confusion, looking around for the threat.  Finally, his eyes fall to her and the naked emotion on his face is enough to make her look away, heart hammering in her chest.  How could she have ever doubted his feelings?  How could she have missed them all this time?   (It turns out knowing and seeing are not the same thing at all.)

He lets her go with a mumbled, “Sorry,” and she climbs out of his lap before daring to look at him again.  He’s staring back at her, emotions locked away under a veneer of friendly concern, and she wonders how long he’s been doing that.  Before she can address any of it, he asks, “How do you feel?”

“Terrible,” she answers and moves to rub her face, frowning at the thick metal cuff around her wrist.  Glancing back at Gourry, she freezes.

“Is any of that yours?” she asks with deceptive calmness, pointing at his shirt.  He looks down, surprised at the amount of blood staining the cotton.  He hadn’t noticed it before.

“No,” he answers softly, watches relief flicker across her features. “What do you remember?”

She forces herself to think back, pulling nonsensical flashes from the depths of her memory.  _The taste of blood in her mouth, the struggle to pull air into her lungs, confusion and fear, the sound of Gourry’s voice--_

“Nothing.  It’s all a blur,” she replies with the most casual shrug she can muster.  He nods, unsurprised, and spends the next several minuets detailing everything that’s happened.  She listens carefully, drinking the water he pushes into her hands, and interjecting a few questions.

“It doesn’t sound like it’ll be too hard to bust out once I can use magic again,” she offers when he’s finished.  “And we’re paid up to the end of the week, so no one should bother our stuff.”

He’s doubly glad that he’d at least remembered to shut the door but doesn’t mention that he left it unlocked.  Instead he asks, “What about that thing on your neck?”

She fingers the collar absently, shrugs again. “It doesn’t stop me from using magic.  It just makes it hurt enough that I won’t want to.”

He looks unhappy about the answer but there’s nothing else to say about it.

“If you got ahold of a sword, could you cut it off?” she asks, fighting a yawn.

“No,” he answers immediately.  “There wouldn’t be anywhere for the blade to travel.”  He holds his middle and pointer fingers together into a mock blade, gently slashing up to tap her chin, down to hit her collar bone.

She nods, struggling to keep her eyes open, which is ridiculous since she’s been awake for all of twenty minutes.  Gourry is watching her too closely, fighting to hide his fear and concern.

“I’m fine,” Lina tells him, spreading the blanket on the ground.  She curls up on top of it, arms pillowing her head.  He doesn’t answer, and she means to say something more on the subject, something more reassuring, but is asleep again before she manages it.  Gourry drapes the towel over her, making sure the damp part doesn’t touch her and he breathes out in something like relief.  He closes his eyes and tries to push all the worry aside, reaching out to reassure himself of her presence.  He falls asleep again, knuckles pressed lightly to the back of her hand.

*

Lina wakes again, body screaming when she moves.  That run-over feeling remains and every inch of her hurts.  She breathes deeply through it, whimpering a little but managing to sit up and cross her legs.  The process wakes Gourry, who reaches out to help her, only to be waved off.  He leans back and rubs his eyes, trying to give her even a fraction of privacy to collect herself.

Together they eat the meager food they’d been left, discussing strategy for a while before Lina gets restless.  She tries slipping her hand out of the cuff, then pulls on the chain (which drags Gourry towards her).  He makes a noise of protest but finds he’s still too relieved that she’s alive to be annoyed.

“Hey you!” Lina shouts, pointing towards the gate.  Gourry turns in time to see a boy about Lina’s age staring at them through the bars.  He looks like he’s been caught doing something wrong and is frozen with indecision. 

“What?” he finally asks.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she replies.

“I can’t help you with that,” he replies and makes a break for it.

“Hey!” she yells after him.  He doesn’t come back so she keeps yelling.  Gourry just leans back against the wall and leaves her to it. 

Verril ambles down eventually, another guard following behind. 

“ _What_?” the nameless guard yells through the gate.

“I have to pee,” Lina snaps back, deciding not to ask about the boy.  Both men look completely put off by the declaration.  When they recover there’s the threat of a bucket being brought in, followed by an argument over who exactly would be emptying said bucket.  The short-haired guard, Zen, finally announces that they should just be left to sit in their own filth, stating the old, “They’re prisoners, why should we do any extra work for them?”

“We’d have to smell it, too,” Verril responds, nose wrinkled.  Zen’s face falls mildly at this bit of common sense.    

Eventually, the men decide that taking them out to the privy they’d built in the woods is the best option, pending Duncan’s permission.  There’s more bickering over who has to run back up and get him, at which point Lina idly considers what she can throw at them (sadly, the answer is nothing, and it really bums her out).  Zen loses the coin toss, and scowling, turns to go.

“And find me some bandages while you’re at it!” Lina yells.

“Why?” both men ask, in unison.

“Mind your own business, that’s why,” she huffs, crossing her arms and looking away.  The guards share a look that reads half-baffled/half-annoyed.  Zen goes without demanding an answer and Verril leans against the wall outside the gate, ignoring his prisoners.

Eventually, Duncan makes his way downstairs.  He takes the lead, unlocking the gate and heading towards them while the other guards trail behind.  He squats down in front of Lina, reaches for her arm but pauses and points at Gourry instead.

“You two put on a good show, but the time for games is over.  Do you care about him at all?” he asks bluntly, watching her closely.  She’s too angry and in too much pain to blush or stammer out a denial.  Instead, she glares at him, chin raised defiantly, and simply refuses to answer.  They study each other for a short while, and then he nods in satisfaction.  “That’s what I figured.  If you try anything, I will kill him.  Do you understand?”

His face is weary, dark smudges under deep-set eyes.  The intent in his expression is chilling, even if it is reluctant.  Finally, she says, “I understand.” And then, “I was serious about those bandages.  A change of clothes would be nice too.”

He narrows his eyes but doesn’t respond, just unlocks her cuff, reattaches it to Gourry’s free arm.  She follows them out without another word and when she returns, it’s in her same bloodied pajamas, fuming but unharmed. Then it’s Gourry’s turn, and Duncan doesn’t bother to threaten him. The late afternoon sun hurts his eyes after most of a day spent inside.  Once all necessities are dealt with, they’re left alone again with another bag of provisions.

“Did he give you the bandages?” Gourry asks, considering other options.  They could try to rip up the towel, or the sleeves off his shirt.  Lina’s yawning again, so it takes her a while to reply in the affirmative, and he sets his plans aside.  She’s sitting near him, body swaying lightly with the effort to stay upright. Wordlessly, he reaches out and wraps an arm around her shoulders, comforting and warm.  They stay like that for a while, until she just gives up and lays down, head resting on Gourry’s thigh.  His hand runs gently up and down her back.  Lina’s body still aches all over, and she’s so exhausted that she can’t summon the energy to be embarrassed about using him as a pillow. 

The torches go out while she’s asleep, so Gourry sits in the dark, cold stone wall at his back.  It’s not much different than sitting in the light had been.  He feels helpless, sitting there, no real part in their vague escape plan.  He wishes he could sleep again but knows it’s a useless desire.  At some point, a light moves down the stairs.  He can’t see who’s holding it until after they’ve unlocked the gate and made their way into the cave. 

“I’m Kaden,” the teenager says and sets an oil lamp down a few feet out of their reach.  His hand goes immediately to the medallion around his neck, worrying the silver disk between his thumb and pointer finger.  “I’m not really supposed to be down here, but I saw how dark it was…” 

He’s a little older than Gourry had first guessed, probably closer to eighteen than sixteen.  Still, there’s something in the way he holds himself that him belies his age.  A vulnerability that has no immediately apparent source.

“If you wanted to help, you could give me the keys,” Lina says, startling Gourry.  He hadn’t noticed her wake.  Kaden jumps a little too, looks down at his feet and mumbles an apology.

“You’ll be okay.  Duncan promised that he won’t let Lord Copas hurt you.”

“Listen kid, he already hurt me,” the red head snaps, sitting up and gesturing to her shirt.  The boy’s green eyes go wide and sad.

“I’m sorry,” he says and flees.  She doesn’t bother to call after him as he relocks the gate.  Lina’s irritated, sure, but she appreciates that at least someone other than Gourry is acting like something is _wrong_ here.  The lamp doesn’t offer as much light, but at least the scent of burning tallow will dissipate.  She wonders how long ago the torches gave out and how long her partner sat in the dark, letting her sleep instead of yelling at the guards.  In the end, she doesn’t ask, because she doesn’t want to brush against _why_ he would do that.  Not here, covered in dry blood and chained to the ground.

“He wasn’t with them when they grabbed us, and I didn’t see him upstairs earlier,” Gourry says after a moment.

“Me either,” she replies, pulling her knees to her chest, wondering if the exhaustion or pain will ever leave her.  They sit in the dim light, bickering about nonsense for a long time.  It’s a distraction, something to calm the unease every time Lina’s magic fails to manifest. Regardless of the facts, it’s nice to pretend that everything is okay for a while.  They move past old arguments and talk instead about what to do in Seyruun, as though the delay in their trip is a minor inconvenience.

The blond man who Gourry had first seen holding the reins of the small horse cart unlocks the gate, and Zen walks past him holding two plates which hold rice and a few cooked fish.  The black-haired man drops the plates in front of Lina, food splattering onto the stone and her filthy bare feet.

“Opps,” he laughs with a cruel twist of his lips.  The other man rolls his eyes and gives the captives a shrug as if to say, “what a bastard” but offers no reprimand.

They take Gourry outside while Lina picks up what food she can manage, depositing it back on the tin plates.  Zen grins when he returns, apparently delighted that he’s forced her to eat off the floor.  She lets it go.  Don’t let anyone say that Lina Inverse doesn’t know how to pick her battles.  As she makes her own trip outside, she realizes that it’s probably been dark for a long while but it’s too cloudy to determine the exact time.  It’s mid-summer, with the sun setting around 8:30.  She guesses its around ten or eleven now, which the unnamed blond man confirms when she asks.

After that, she and Gourry eat quietly, too demoralized to make conversation.  Lina hates how tired she still is, the pain floating along her nerves, how the coolness of the rock leaks through the wool of their stiff, dirty blanket, and-- you know what?  Everything.  She hates _everything_.  She doesn’t tell Gourry though because he’s quietly miserable, trying to push more rice on her plate like they’re not _both_ starving, and she doesn’t want to add more to his unhappiness.

She dozes off soon after they’ve finished eating, leaned up against his side, his chained arm around her shoulders.  Kaden shows up again, hovering at the gate.

“Pillows would be nice,” Gourry muses.  “And clean clothes.”

“Is she okay?” Kaden asks.

“I don’t know,” the blond man replies honestly.  “Even if she is, I’m afraid it won’t last long.”

“Shut up, trying to sleep,” Lina mutters and pushes her face against his shoulder.  He glances down at her with a fond smile that he rarely lets her see, uses his free hand to move her hair behind her ear.  When he looks back up, the young man is unlocking the gate.  Kaden moves forward casually, glancing at them like they might lean over and bite.  Gourry doesn’t mention it, but he wouldn’t exactly put that past his drowsing companion, except she can’t reach.  The mental image makes him laugh, and the look the teenager throws him makes him wonder if he’s not losing it, just a little.  He quiets down when Lina pokes him in the ribs and _growls_ at him.  Kaden pours more oil into the lamp and doesn’t try to talk to Gourry again.

*

It’s difficult to gauge the passage of time.  It’s uncomfortable on the ground, even with the blanket folded under them.  Muscles stiff, stomach rumbling, it’s hard to keep his mind off their current situation.  They’re closing in on two days in this place, but it feels like a year.  The shadows move, churning and sinister.  He closes his eyes and desperately wills himself to sleep.

*

Gourry dreams of Lina in a glass coffin, floating in blood.  She’s in a strapless, gauzy white dress, the material floating like a shroud in the liquid, only the bodice retaining the original color.  Her eyes snap open, freezing him in place with a level of hatred he’s never seen before. 

“How could you let him do this to me?” she screams, fists pounding the glass, blood splashing up to the lid, only to crash back down on her face, staining the few remaining inches of clean skin and fabric.  She keeps screaming, heedless of the wine-colored liquid falling into her eyes and mouth.

Suddenly she’s beside him, dripping, liquid pooling around her feet, black in the dim light.  Only now can he see the wounds on her arms, her stomach.  A terrible knowledge fills him.  The blood in the coffin was her own. He doesn’t understand how she’s standing, doesn’t think she’s breathing.  _Who did this to you?_ He wants to ask and reaches for her, fingers wrapping around her bare, bloody shoulders.  The pale skin is hot under his hands, burning with fever, with rage, scorching his flesh, but he just holds tighter.

“This is your fault,” she tells him and pulls away, leaving his hands red-stained and empty.

He can’t speak, can’t promise to save her, can’t _reach_ her at all now.  She laughs bitterly and raises the Sword of Light, impossibly driving it through her own chest.  He knows she’s dead like he knows the color of the sky, like he knows the weight of that sword in his hand; facts as absolute as they are inescapable. Pain washes over him, steady and agonizing, as much a part of him as his bones.

*

Gourry wakes, breathing hard, unashamed of the tears on his face.  Lina had migrated to his lap, curled against his chest, the sound of her breath a welcome chant of _alive_ , _alive_ , _alive_.  He pulls her close, palm set lightly against her chest, just to feel her heart beat.  It’s there, along with the normal warmth of her body, so he focuses on _that_ fact and nothing else.

He doesn’t sleep again.

 


	4. then all at once there is nothing

> “But man’s life _is_ short, at any moment
> 
> it can be snapped, like a reed in a canebrake.”

 

Lord Copas and his entire entourage sweep into the dungeon, presumably the next morning, but who can be sure?  It’s not like they’ve been keeping their captives updated on trivial things like the passage of time.  The commotion wakes Lina, who scrambles off his lap and to her feet.  The chain that connects them isn’t long enough for them both to stand, so Gourry scoots closer to give her more range of motion.  The noble greets them genially, as though they aren’t shackled to the ground.  Neither answer but he doesn’t seem to notice.  Lina stays still as he takes her pulse, looks closely at her eyes and skin.  He nods to himself, satisfied by whatever he sees there.

“What’s your endgame here?” the sorceress demands.  “When your experiment fails, are you just going to let us go?”

Her skepticism is a palpable thing.  He smiles tightly.

“When this succeeds, you won’t want to leave.  Perhaps then we can discuss better accommodations.” 

The dread she’s managed to keep at bay is unfurling in her chest, exacerbated by the scalpel he pulls from the bag in Duncan’s hands. 

“Give her another day to rest,” Gourry demands, moving to his knees.  “Think how much stronger she’ll be tomorrow.”

Copas snorts, “Don’t try to stall.” And reaches for Lina’s free arm.  Panic bursts, and she snaps her leg up to kick him between the legs, desperately trying to knock the blade from his hand at the same time.  It clatters to the floor as he backs away, clutching himself.  Zen raises his fist and moves forward.  Gourry surges up to block the attack, effectively pulling Lina down, but its Duncan who grabs Zen’s wrist.

“No one gave that order,” he tells the other man, who glowers at the interruption.  During the commotion, Lord Copas has righted himself.  Face twisted with rage, he strides forward and grabs Lina by the shoulders.  He slams her back against the wall, eyes boring into hers.

“I’ve been understanding,” he growls, shaking her roughly.  “I’ve explained it to you, over and over.”

There’s a sharp tug at her arm, and she hears Gourry move, the sound of struggle and noises of distress, but she keeps her eyes locked on the man in front of her.

“Why are you fighting me?” he screams in her face, pulling her slightly forward, his body pressing against hers.  “I’m going to make you the mother of a new world, whether you like it or not.”

Lina recoils from the madness in his eyes, tries to flatten herself against the wall, but his hands are unyielding vises that pull her back towards him.  Without meaning to, she reaches for her magic as his fingers dig deeper into her skin.  Like an old friend, it reaches back, and the collar around her neck begins to burn.  Relief floods her as she lets the power go.

“I’m not helping you.” Lina says with new-found calm.  The man grabs her by the chin, forces her head to the left.  Gourry is on his knees still, Zen’s hand gripping her protector’s hair at the roots, head yanked back.  The guard is holding a dagger in his free hand, pressed against the delicate skin of Gourry’s throat.  Blood already drips from the wound.  Copas leans in even closer, mouth near enough to her ear that she can feel his breath.

“The only choice you have is whether he lives or dies, but either way, I’ll get what I need.”

Zen smiles at her and pulls the blade closer.  Gourry tries to shake his head, expression radiating anger, before Copas forces her face back towards his.

“Well?”

Wordlessly, and with as much dignity as she can muster, she holds her free arm out in offering.  He smiles and releases her, motions Duncan forward.  Duncan doesn’t look at her as Copas digs through the satchel again, easily producing a jar and another blade.

“Hold still,” the noble warns.  Lina nods, and he slides the scalpel across the skin of her inner elbow.  A sharp intake of breath is all that gives her pain away.  She hears Gourry struggle, his own grunt of pain, and wants to tell him stop, _please_ , just let this go for now. 

“This seemed a quicker collection method than individual vials.  I can always measure it out later,” Copas says easily as he holds the jar up to her arm, temper suddenly forgotten in the face of his victory.  He’s still standing close to her, the whole thing feeling too shamefully intimate to share with witnesses, so she ignores the uncomfortable shuffle of the guards and keeps staring at the noble.  She can’t bring herself to look at Gourry, unwilling to tie his face to this moment as it burns into her memory.

It’s done soon enough, Copas smiling as he screws the lid onto the jar and packs it away.  She feels lightheaded and intends to mock his impending failure now that the danger has passed but he calls up a healing spell and presses it to her wound.  So instead she says, “Heal his throat,” with a nod towards Gourry.

“I’m not a cruel man, Ms. Inverse,” the noble replies.  “But his injury is of his own making.  Let it serve as a warning for the next time.”

He takes the satchel from Duncan and stores away his prize, smiling softly and clapping the guard on the shoulder.  Together they leave with the rest of the men, only Duncan throwing a backward glance over his shoulder as they go.  His face is solemn but oddly relieved.

The gate slams shut, echoing through the cave.  Once the party is gone, Lina sinks to her knees and crawls towards Gourry, who is already moving in her direction.  She keeps her eyes on the ground, grabs up the blanket and finds the cleanest part.  Kneeling, facing each other, she presses the cloth to his wound.  His hands hover at her sides, but he sets them down again without touching her. 

“Are you okay?” he asks helplessly.

“I will be once I blow this place to rubble,” she answers, still looking at his throat.  Her hands are shaking so he reaches up to cover them with own, drawing them away from his wound.  The blanket falls to the floor.

“Look at me?” he asks, so she does.  His expression is complicated, a mixture of anger, sorrow, and profound relief as his eyes linger over the marks on her jaw line.  It’s too much, honestly, him looking at her like that.  Later she’ll swear that she couldn’t help it, as if she needed any excuse at all.  Now, Lina closes the distance between them, presses rough lips chastely against his.  He returns her kiss softly, fingers sliding around the base of her neck.  When she pulls away, it’s only to rest her forehead against his. 

“Lina, I--” he begins, caressing her back.  She sits back a little and shakes her head.

“Not here,” she sighs.  “I don’t want to talk about it here."

Because she asked, he falls silent and lets her go.

“Later,” she promises, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor.  “Right now, I have a plan.”

*

It’s a simple one, as far as plans go, but it’s not like they have many options.  It’s predicated largely on opportunity, which takes a while to present itself.  Duncan and Verril come down to facilitate trips to the privy and leave behind some mealy apples not terribly long after the whole blood stealing-ordeal.  Both men are grave, eyes avoiding Lina’s face when possible.  She pretends there’s some guilt lurking in their expressions, or at least their avoidance.  Kaden falls into step behind them as they return to the dungeon, despite Duncan’s disapproving glare.

“I brought this for you,” the teenager tells Lina, holding out a grey tunic.  It would only be a little big on her, she thinks as she takes it.  She glances at Duncan, whose face is sad as he watches the exchange.  He pushes it away when he notices her watching, and nods gruffly instead, moving to free her.  He wastes no time clamping the manacle on Gourry’s free arm once again.

“Hurry up.” Duncan waves at the tunic.

“Turn around.” She orders.  Kaden’s cheeks turn bright red and he swings right around, but Duncan just frowns.

“I…” he begins, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Can’t exactly turn our backs on you,” Verril points out helpfully.  Lina gives them a disgusted look and ducks behind Gourry, who crosses his arms over his chest and tries puffing up a bit in effort to hide her from view.  Lina turns her back on the lot of them and changes quickly, dropping the soiled shirt to the ground.  She moves back into view and is somewhat relieved to find that the two guards seemed at least to have averted their gaze.

“Thanks for this,” Lina tells Kaden, tapping him on the shoulder.  He turns back around, face still red, and smiles.

“It’s the least I can do, considering-- “

“Go upstairs.” Duncan interrupts, pulling the young man by the shoulder.  He gives Lina a little wave and does as he’s told, moving towards the gate.

“Are you the one Copas’ll have kill us when his experiment fails?” Lina asks causally as Verril secures the cuff once more around her wrist.  He shoots her an alarmed look, glances back at Duncan.  The other man looks pained, hands tightening into fists at his side.

“If his theory truly doesn’t work, I’ll let you go myself.”

“And if it does work?  Do I just get to live down here as you slowly bleed me to death?”

He looks away from her and motions to Verril, wordlessly following Kaden out of the room.  Silence feels like its own answer.

*

Alone again, they snack, and Lina’s eyes begin to droop.  Her skin is pale, making the dark rings under her eyes more prominent.  It feels like she’s been tired her entire life and always will be.  The blood loss on its own wasn’t profound, but combined with all their other circumstances, Gourry is worried about her.  Or at least, his worry is growing even stronger.  She brushes it off when he tells her so but still curls against his side once she’s finished her apple.  He drifts off for a while as well, too exhausted to worry about nightmares.

The gate slams open, startling them both out of sleep.  Zen laughs, and moves towards them swinging a burlap sack.  Lina inches forward, eyes intent on the lone guard.  Opportunity, at last.

“Lunch time!” the black-haired man announces as he stops a few feet away.  He digs through the bag, pulling out some jerky and an orange.  “These are too good for the likes of you,” he chortles and tosses the bag at them.  Neither of them reacts to his little show, so he scowls at them, booted foot tapping against the stone floor.

“I bet you can’t wait to find what’s in store for you,” he jeers.

“Yeah, I’m gonna die, it’s not that much of a mystery,” she replies, pulling bread out of the bag and not looking at him.

“Slowly.”

“That’s nice.  Hey, I have to pee,” Lina announces, finally glancing up.

“Sounds like a personal problem.”

The sorceress tsks.  “Just hand me off upstairs and make someone else take me.”

Zen snorts with disdain.

“You were right,” Gourry cuts in, talking to Lina and totally ignoring the other man.  She sighs and nods.

“It’s ridiculous, I mean, I’m the captive here,” she moans, shaking her shackled wrist for emphasis.

Gourry gives her a commiserating shoulder-pat.  “Well, what can you do?”

“What are you talking about?” Zen demands, pale blue eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Look, I get it,” Gourry says easily.  “Her reputation makes her sound like a monster, and those stories _are_ mostly true, so…”

“Hey!” she protests.

“I’m just saying, its normal for the average person to be afraid of you,” Gourry replies, hands held up in surrender. 

Confusion blooms across the guard’s face, followed closely by outrage.

“I’ll show you something to be afraid of,” he growls, fist clenched, and marches towards them.  Lina glances at her protector for just a moment as she chants silently, her earlier warning popping into his head.  (“It’s going to _hurt_ ,” she’d said, face apologetic.)  Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like he has enough time to prepare.  Zen is before them in an instant, fist poised to strike.  Lina grabs his leg and he falters, confused, tries to shake her off. As the spell reaches its conclusion, the pain strikes hard and fast.  Metal burns her skin, the force of it searing down from the collar and spreading throughout the rest of her body, but she doesn’t let it distract her from her purpose.  She ignores the black at the edges of her vision, focusing on the spell, making sure it takes hold before giving in and passing out.  Although the collar’s magic surely poured into Zen along with the sleep spell, he didn’t have time to yell before collapsing to the ground.

 Pain pours through the cuff at Gourry’s wrist, sizzling up his arm and into his chest, spreading rapidly to the rest of him.  It burns from the roots of his clenched teeth all the way down to his toes.  Gourry fights, breathes deeply through his nose, focuses on the open gate but still blacks out for a moment.  (It can’t have been much longer since they haven’t been discovered yet, he figures.)  His body aches, tender with the memory of pain but he ignores it and crawls over to Lina.  He checks her pulse, hand shaking a little as he presses fingertips to her wrist.  He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to do this in the last few days, how many times the voice in his head has whispered that he isn’t going to find anything.  She’s alive though, just like the other times.

“Lina,” he says, giving her a gentle shake.  “Wake up.”  She doesn’t stir, but the steady rise and fall of her chest is reassuring.  Gourry turns to Zen, rifling through his pockets and patting him down for weapons.  He comes away with a key ring, a sword, and a shoddy dagger.  Relief pours through him when the second key on the ring unlocks the cuff on his wrist.  His skin is bruised and burned where the metal sat, but he ignores it, quickly unlocking Lina.  Her wrist didn’t fare any better and he eyes her neck with trepidation.  None of the keys fit the collar, so he sets them aside and lifts Lina into a sitting position.

“Wake up,” he repeats, patting her left cheek.  Slowly, her eyes slide open and she stares, unfocused.

“We don’t have much time.  You have to get up,” he tells her.  She blinks slowly and nods, winces at the movement. 

“Did you know it would be this bad?” he asks as he pulls her to her feet.

“No,” she croaks, fingers grazing the collar.  She whimpers as the metal shifts against her skin. 

“None of them fit,” he says and bends down to scoop up the keys when he’s sure she can stand on her own.

“Nothing we can do about it right now,” she says with forced lightness, eyeing Zen’s boots. 

“Too big for you, too small for me.” Gourry says, following her gaze.  She sighs in resignation, and he hands her the dagger and the keys.  Lina takes a few test steps, and while shaky, manages to stay on her feet.

“I’m fine,” she insists.  “Let’s get out of here.”

They move quickly through the open gate and up the first set of stairs.  Pausing on the landing, Lina falters, breathing deeply through her nose.

“Do you smell that?” she whispers.

“The only thing I smell is us.”

She grimaces because he’s not exactly wrong and shakes her head. 

“I’ve smelled it every time they’ve taken me outside.”

“Who cares?  We need--“

“Just trust me!” she hisses and moves to the lone door on the right.  It opens, revealing nothing more sinister than two beds and a trunk.  She shuts the door and moves across the landing, sniffing.  Of the two doors on the left, one is locked and the other opens to a store room.

“Lina!” he whisper-yells as she kneels in front of the locked door.  She ignores him and tries all three keys.  When none of them work, she sticks the tip of the dagger into the key hole and moves it around gently until she hears a soft click.  Ignoring Gourry’s increasing scowl, she scrambles to her feet and tries the handle.  As the door swings opens, the smell intensifies, flooding the hall.  There’s no question now what lies within, and Lina hovers on the threshold. 

“Grab that torch,” she murmurs over her shoulder.  He wants to tell her to leave it, to prod her up the stairs and out of this hell-hole, but he learned a long time ago that there’s no arguing with the expression on her face.  Since it’s the only thing left to do besides tossing her over his shoulder, he does as she as asks and holds the light up as she moves into the room.

“I knew he was lying,” she says helplessly, staring at the bodies.  One is lying on a narrow bed, wrapped tightly in what looks to be a waxed tarp, bundles of herbs piled on and around the mattress, probably to hide the smell.  The other is laying on the floor, a cloak thrown hastily over the head and torso.  Lina knows who it is before she moves but she leans down anyway, gently moving the cape away as though that tenderness might change the outcome.

“Damn it!” she swears, too loudly, but Gourry doesn’t shush her.  His face is hard and angry, knuckles white around the hilt of the sword.  The victim is lying on his stomach, face turned away from the pair.  There’s a knife wound in his back, the pool of blood around him black in the torchlight and only dry at the edges.

“I told him this wouldn’t work.  There was no reason for this.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Gourry tells her from the doorway.  “There’s nothing we can do for him now.  We need to get out of here.”

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Lina whispers as she reaches towards the body.  The sound of voices echo down the stairs, pulling Gourry’s attention away, and he darts across the landing to replace the torch.  He doubles back into the room and pulls the door gently closed, ignoring with great difficulty that they’re effectively trapped in a small dark room with two corpses.  The smell is thick in the enclosed space, and he tries not to gag.  A single pair of footsteps move down the stairs and pause on the landing in front of the door.  The guard does gag, and mutters about cleaning rotten food out the storeroom before moving towards the second set of stairs. 

Gourry pushes out of the door and lunges, striking the blond guard with the hilt of his sword as the man whirls back towards him.  The man crumples to the ground without a sound.  Leaving him where he falls, Gourry returns to the doorway.  Lina has re-covered the body, hands clenched at her sides.  She eyes the other corpse for a moment, but there’s no time to check its identity, and the smell suggests it’s impossible anyway.  Instead, she gets to her feet, only swaying a little, and moves out of the room.  They leave the door open and silently ascend the stairs, Gourry in the lead.  Pausing six stairs from the top, Lina takes a deep breath and nods in response to Gourry’s mouthed, “Ready?”

The swordsman charges forward, Lina at his heels. 

“We’re leaving,” she announces, holding the dagger in front of her while Duncan jumps to his feet.  Verril rises more slowly but is the first to draw his sword.

“I can’t let you do that,” Duncan says, honest regret in his tone, and follows Verril’s example.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Gourry tells him, swinging the sword in a figure eight to loosen his wrist. 

“Where’s Kaden?” Lina asks.  Duncan’s attention jumps to her, suspicion on his face.

“None of your concern,” he snaps, but it lacks the heat he means it to. 

“Ask your boss.” She insists.

“Lord Copas!” Duncan shouts, panic flooding his expression. 

“I am at a very crucial stage, so this had better--“Copas is saying as he slams open door, stopping abruptly when he sees his captives.  “ _Get them back downstairs_.”

“Where’s my brother?” Duncan asks tightly. 

“I…” Copas swallows.  “He’s gone to Myrrka, to fetch supplies.”

“How long do you think that excuse is going to work for you?” Lina demands.

“Why are they still up here?” Copas asks, looking past her to his men.  “They’re only trying--“

Lina opens her hand, letting the silver medallion swing into view.  The cave falls silent.  Gourry is almost as surprised as everyone else and he figures she must have taken it while he was knocking the guard out.  A dreadful understanding fills Duncan’s face and Lina wishes she could look away from his pain.

“She must have stolen it from the boy,” Copas tries, but the denial sounds weak even to his own ears.  Duncan is staring at him in disbelief.  Verril shifts, sword lowering as he watches his friend and his boss.

“I’m truly sorry,” the noble sighs.  “I was so sure, but… Kaden’s time was short, and he volunteered.  It’s a tragedy, of course-“

“You stabbed him in the back and left him to bleed out on the floor,” Gourry snarls.  Something cold passes over Duncan’s features and he’s moving before anyone can react.  The man doesn’t even pause as he plunges his sword through Lord Copas’s chest.  He pulls the blade free, letting the body drop to the ground.

“He killed my brother,” Duncan says to no one in particular, watching blood pool on the floor.

“I guess you’re free to go,” Verril says uneasily, eyes wide with surprise.  Lina moves cautiously to the noble’s side, eyeing Duncan as she crouches to rifle through the dead man’s pockets.  The former guard wanders away and sits heavily in the chair he’d been occupying before, bloody sword still clutched in his hand.  Lina makes a noise of triumph as she finds the small key, drawing Gourry’s attention. 

She almost cries with relief when the lock clicks open and wastes no time pulling the collar off.  Gourry tries not stare at her throat as she drops the metal ring on Copas’s bloody chest and gets to her feet.  The burn around her throat is raw and oozing, so much worse than the ones on their wrists.  Lina doesn’t notice his reaction, instead moving towards Duncan and holding the medallion out to him.  He reaches out slowly, as if dazed, and wraps his fingers around the metal.

“He’d been sick his whole life.  My parents went bankrupt trying to find a cure.  Lord Copas owns most of the land in our village, he…” he trails off there, face crumpling.

“He offered you hope,” she says softly.  He nods miserably, tears dripping down his cheeks.  “I’m sorry to rush you,” she tells him.  “But I’m destroying this place and everything in it, so you need to make a choice.”

He stares at her, uncomprehending.

“Do you want him buried here or do you want to take him home?” Lina says bluntly, gesturing to the necklace in his hand.  Pain and fatigue are shouting to make themselves known as adrenaline fades and she doesn’t have time for his grief.

“I have to take him home.”

“Then go get him.  I’m not giving you much time.”

“Where…”

“Downstairs.  First door on the left.”

“The smell.” Duncan laughs bitterly.  “Rabbits, he said.  From failed versions of the cure.  He was studying their rate of decay.”

She shrugs weakly.

“It’s just Kaden and another body.”

Duncan flinches at the word.

“Zen and Kosta still alive?” Verril wonders, naming the blond guard.

“Knocked out, but fine,” Gourry offers.

“Better go rouse ‘em,” he says and heads down stairs.  Wordlessly, Duncan follows him.

Once they’re alone, Lina raises her hands to her throat.  Despite how bad the injury looks, it doesn’t take long for her to heal, and Gourry is relieved to see it gone. 

“You didn’t look surprised that they were brothers,” he comments as he follows her to the room where Lord Copas had ventured from to yell about the noise. 

 “They don’t really look alike but there’s something in the shape of the eyes.  Plus, the way the kid talked about Duncan… What about you?”

The way Duncan had looked at Kaden was familiar enough to Gourry, an expression he’d seen reflected back at him for most of his life.  An expression that he hadn’t seen since before he’d left home, and never would again.

“Yeah, the eyes gave it away,” he answers finally.  Luckily, she’s too engrossed in the room to notice his hesitancy.  There’s papers, books, and journals piled on every surface, even stacked under the bed at the back of the room.  There are beakers hanging above small flames, ruby red and boiling.  All manner of other containers litter the room, filled with herbs and liquids and things neither of them recognize.  Lina hovers near the jar still half filled with her blood, lost in thought.  Gourry’s hand is a comforting weight on her shoulder.  She leaves everything as they found it, moving out of the room and into the one next to it.  It’s narrow but long, housing four slim beds and not much else. 

Together they turn back to the main chamber at the sound of voices.  Verril and Kosta come up first, awkwardly walking sideways up the narrow stairs, Zen’s unconscious form between them.  Kosta glowers at Gourry, who easily ignores him.

“That spell’s not wearing off for hours,” Lina tells them, gesturing to the unconscious man, and doesn’t offer to lift it.

“Let’s get ‘im outside then,” Verril tells his companion, who grunts an agreement, and together they make their way out of the cave.

They return, free of their burden, and mill about waiting for Duncan.  No one offers to go check on him.

“Did you know the other person?” Lina asks, trying not to sway on her feet. 

“Yeah,” Kosta replies, leaning against the wall near the entrance, expression grim.  “Boss said he quit a few weeks ago, but…” he says with a shrug.

Finally, Duncan emerges from below.  Kaden’s body is held gently against his chest, wrapped in a blanket that’s held in place by a leather belt.  He doesn’t look at them as he heads outside.  Unsure what else to do, the rest of them follow him out.  Everyone remains silent as he settles his brother’s body in the back of the cart.  It takes a while for him to acknowledge them and when he does, it’s simply to say, “Help me with Ravir’s body.” And heads back into the cave. 

Lina follows him, to the surprise of the others.  Gourry goes after her and the other two are happy to remain outside. 

“What are you doing?” Duncan asks as she shoulders past him to be first down the stairs. 

“It’s decent of you to bury him,” she says as she descends.  “So, I’m going to cast a preservation spell on the body to help with the smell.”

The men remain silent as she casts.  It’s quick enough, but she sags against the wall as she finishes.  Duncan doesn’t notice though, staring at the red-black pool on the stone floor.

“Can you…” he trails off without looking at her.

“Yes,” Lina answers, waving off Gourry’s concerned frown, and forces herself away from the wall. 

“I’ll get his feet,” Gourry says and hands Lina the sword he’d so-far refused to relinquish.  Her arm wavers under its weight, but she holds it steady at her side.  Together Gourry and Duncan carry the body outside, the sorceress trailing after them.  She casts the preservation spell on Kaden’s corpse as they set Ravir’s in the cart next to him.  When she’s done, she sinks to the ground.

“Did he do research anywhere else?” Lina asks when Duncan turns back to her.

“Hw has a manor house, north of my village.  Not a stone is going to survive.” He answers.  Lina believes the rage in his eyes.  Without another word, he walks away and unties the horse from a nearby tree.  He busies himself hitching the wagon while the two former guards lift Zen’s prone form from the ground and stick him on the bench.  When Duncan is finished with the horse, he climbs next to Zen.  He makes sure the man is situated before snapping the reins.

“Take care,” Verril calls, giving a little wave.  “It was never personal.”

With that, Duncan gives them a nod and the whole party disappears into the trees.  Gourry drops onto the ground next to Lina, shoulder bumping hers.

“It’s over,” she tells him in disbelief.

“Are you okay?”

“Ask me tomorrow,” she replies, reaching for his injured wrist with shaking hands.

“I’m fine,” he says, but she ignores him, healing his burn and then her own.

“I was already too tired to walk back to town,” Lina says, closing her eyes against the early evening sun.

“We could spend the night in there and you could blow it up in the morning,” Gourry offers.

“That’s the best plan,” she admits.  “But I’d rather sleep out here in the dirt than set foot back in that cave.”

*

In the end, they compromise.  Gourry ducks back into the cave to gather a few things, says a few harsh words over Lord Copas’s body, and they head upstream to set up camp.  They wash up as best they can in the cool water, build a fire, and eat provisions from the guards’ room while talking about week-long baths and feather beds.  Lina will Dragon Slave the cave out of existence in the morning, but until then she’s stretched out next to Gourry on a rough wool blanket that is wonderfully void of dried blood.  He finally lets the tension drain out of his body as he pulls her closer.  Gourry isn’t sure if she would allow this now that the danger has passed, but he’ll accept a fire ball tomorrow if need be.  They have things to say to each, things that need voiced, but they have plenty of time for that later.  For now, he presses a kiss against her grimy hair and closes his eyes, letting himself sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whether you loved it or hated it, I want to thank you for reading it to the end. I hope you enjoyed the ride!


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